


Prickles

by chuusei_teki_na_koe



Series: Emotional Sounds on the Violin [1]
Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Angst, Casual Sex, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22086709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuusei_teki_na_koe/pseuds/chuusei_teki_na_koe
Summary: It's not enough to really hurt.[the straightforward summary: in their first year of uni, Eddy and Brett go to a house party and try to have a good time.]
Relationships: Brett Yang/Original Male Character(s), Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Series: Emotional Sounds on the Violin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580653
Comments: 14
Kudos: 79





	Prickles

**Author's Note:**

> Partially inspired by this:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RAU7VgU7GoE (and you should seriously see these clips if you ship Breddy... it's O.O)
> 
> And that old pic floating around of Brett looking like a wild party animal where it also seems like he has pierced ears (the Christmas video also implies that, no?)
> 
> Also I may have been listening to Chandelier while writing this. Good song. I love Sia.

“I can't be here all night, okay, I gotta practice,” Eddy said, his usual complaint, which Brett ignored, practically dragging him by the arm up the street.

“You gotta get out sometimes, bro,” Brett replied, waving at a friend coming out from the suburban house and across the lawn. “You practice enough.”

“It's easy for you to say when you're actually—” Eddy started, but didn't finish as Brett found someone else he knew and started talking to them.

“Sorry, what?” Brett turned back to him once they were done.

Eddy shook his head. “Nothing important.”

Brett was aware that Eddy didn't really like parties, but as Brett said often enough, uni was a time for enjoying this kind of thing, and if he didn't go, he was gonna regret it.

They went in through the front, and first thing, Brett looked for the host to say hi—she was a friend of a friend, and someone he didn't know well, but he figured he should at least introduce himself if he was gonna be in her house. Then he went to the kitchen to set down the drinks he'd brought and pour something for himself and Eddy. Eddy followed behind him the whole way as they wove through the crowds.

“I'm gonna go look for Chris,” Brett said, throwing back everything in his plastic cup. Chris was another music student, a cellist in fourth year, and the one who'd invited them there.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Eddy said, sipping away at his drink more sedately as he parked himself near the snacks table. “I'm gonna eat.” He saw Brett off with a little stroke on the head—more of a pat, really, fingers briefly raking through Brett's hair as he lightly pushed Brett in the other direction. His touch sent a prickling sensation from Brett's ears all the way down his neck, and he kept his face turned away, hoping he wasn't blushing too hard.

It didn't take long for Brett to find the guy he was looking for hanging out in the living room, leaning against the back of the couch as he chatted with a group of friends. Chris was tall with a nice face, pierced ears, and well-fitted jeans, and he was one of those rare few who could wear a fedora without coming off like a creep. When he saw Brett approaching, he looked up and smiled.

“Hey man, you came,” he said, reaching out to brush Brett's arm a little in greeting. He always got touchy when he was drinking.

“You know I don't miss a party.”

Chris introduced Brett to some of his other friends, a group of girls whose names Brett would later struggle to remember. They were fun, though, and laughed at his jokes, and Brett exchanged numbers with at least one of them. It felt good to have people smiling at him and treating him like he was worth something—yeah, maybe he was an attention whore, but so what? What was so wrong about that?

Brett did circle back at one point to check on Eddy, and found him still loitering by the snack table, stuffing chips in his mouth.

“You're not gonna dance? You love this song, though,” Brett said, raising his voice to be heard about the noise.

“What? Are you kidding, I'd look like such a loser.”

“There are some other people from school here, you should go talk to them. I know I saw Marissa around here somewhere.”

“She's your friend, not mine,” Eddy said, and the sharpness in his tone made Brett look back at him. Eddy was staring off at the wall, fiddling with an empty cup in his hand.

“Huh? I thought you guys were friends.”

“We're not. But whatever.” Eddy grabbed another chip from a nearby bowl and crunched it down. “Just go chat with your other friends. Who were those girls you were chatting up earlier?” He was looking away from Brett as he asked.

“You mean Chris's friends? Yeah, they were cool. This one girl, May, she says she plays the theremin? Do they even have classes for that here?”

“You get her number?” Eddy asked, grabbing another handful of chips.

“Of course.”

Loud crunching sounds, and Eddy didn't reply.

“Anyway, just come on, let's go mingle.” Then he grabbed Eddy by the arm, and Eddy obediently followed him around the party.

Brett did most of the talking—it was easy after this many drinks, though he didn't quite remember how many he'd had. They chatted with people they knew and people they didn't know, and then once they turned off the lights in the living room and someone brought out an actual disco ball, Brett danced some.

“Come on, Eddy,” Brett beckoned him onto the dance floor, but Eddy was shaking his head and backing off.

“I'm so not drunk enough for this,” he said—practically yelled, actually to be heard over the music.

“You'll dance in the park in public, but not here?” Brett laughed at him, and Eddy just kept shaking his head as he retreated to another room.

A while later, when the music had calmed down to a boring slow song that Brett wasn't into, he figured he'd go check on Eddy, but didn't find him where he'd left him. Brett wandered around a bit, and eventually discovered him in one of the quieter hallways at the back of the house, drink in hand, leaning against the wall and chatting with a cute girl with long hair and a modest-looking summer dress who was leaning there beside him. Brett didn't know her. He paused at the end of the hall when he caught sight of them. Eddy laughed hard at something she said, spewing his drink out of his nose, and she smacked his back when he choked, laughing with him. Neither of them noticed Brett.

Ignoring the prickling in his throat, Brett turned around and disappeared back into the crowds. It was a good thing that Eddy was finally starting to talk to people and enjoy himself.

After grabbing another drink and downing it quickly, the music picked up again, and Brett went back to the darkened living room to dance.

Chris showed up there at some point, and among the jostling bodies, his was particularly close, his hand sliding casually across Brett's back as if it could have been an accident. Brett was drunk enough to let it happen, turning to look at Chris with a grin, and now emboldened, Chris's hand slid lower.

The music paused before the base dropped, and Brett spent a long moment staring at him, his inebriated mind struggling to keep up.

But he was good at going with the flow.

Brett reached up to stroke Chris's side, and was rewarded with a grin. Chris grabbed his hand and leaned in close to his face so he could say in his ear, “Come on,” and he drew Brett away from the crowds to one of the back rooms of the house.

If he had been sober, Brett would have spent a hell of a lot more time worrying about pretending like he knew what he was doing, and it would probably have come off unnatural. Or maybe it worked out because Chris was clearly the type who liked to take control, and Brett was allowed the relief of not having to make any decisions. When Chris pulled him into the bedroom and brought him in for a kiss, Brett just opened his mouth and let it happen.

It was warm and wet and confused. Chris's hands cupped his ass, bringing him close, then explored under his shirt before tugging it off and tossing it across the room, his own joining it soon enough. There was a dizzying blur between then and the moment that Chris was sitting on the bed, bringing Brett's head into his lap and his mouth down onto his cock. It was hot and salty and so pleasantly soft, and Brett's lips felt awkward, unused to any of it.

But then Chris laid his hand on Brett's head, fingers carding through his hair, and Brett shivered from head to toe.

Just that one touch was enough to suddenly remind Brett of Eddy's hand on his head—he did that sometimes, not all the time, but no one else did it, so in his mind, that touch was Eddy, _Eddy,_ and Brett closed his eyes as he felt those fingers drag across his scalp, imagining it was Eddy's cock in his mouth, and _fuck_ that thought alone was enough to get him painfully hard in his pants.

At least the alcohol was dulling his thoughts. He hadn't come here to do this to think about Eddy. He didn't want to think about anything.

By the time Brett managed to finish him, his throat was feeling dry and scratchy from the effort, but cum sliding down his throat was a fine reward, and when Chris returned the favor, pulling him up to the bed and tugging down his pants, Brett got what he wanted.

Chris's grip on his thighs was tight, the pace of his mouth incessant, and he had seemingly no gag reflex. For just a few blessed minutes, all Brett could think about was the building heat between his legs. He couldn't help but whimper a little when he came, grabbing Chris's shoulders for support as Chris drank down everything.

When they were done, they lay back on the bed for a while, not cuddling or anything, just basking in the post-orgasm fuzzy feelings.

“I wasn't expecting that,” Brett said after a moment.

“Huh? I thought I was being obvious.”

In retrospect, maybe he had been. Still. “Do I come off that way?” He thought he didn't. He'd make jokes, but he didn't talk that way, he'd never act that way.

“Dude, you play violin. Only the flute could be gayer.” Chris paused. “I kinda thought you might already be with that friend of yours, though.”

“What, Eddy?” Brett snorted. “No way. He's totally straight.”

“You think? I kinda pinged him.”

“He can be kind of feminine, but he definitely likes girls.”

“Hmm.” Chris didn't quite seem to believe it.

Brett didn't really want to talk about Eddy, though. In attempt to change the topic, he reached out to brush the piercings in Chris's right ear. There were three going up the shell, and one in the lobe. “When did you get these done?”

“Oh this?” Chris reached up to touch his own ear. “Back in high school. Did it myself, actually.”

“You're joking. Isn't that a bad idea.”

“Nah, lots of people do it themselves. You just poke it with a safety pin.” He made a popping sound effect.

“Doesn't it hurt?”

“It's just a little prickle. I could do it for you, if you want.”

Maybe it was just because he was drunk, but Brett didn't think. “Yeah, sure.”

It didn't take long. Chris fished a couple of safety pins and a lighter out of his pocket and held the needle over the flame for a while to sterilize it and let it cool. He spent a moment eyeballing it, making sure it was in the right position. Then he pressed the point of the safety pin to Brett's ear and pushed it through, clipping the safety pin on his ear. Then he did the same for the other side. “You can get some legit earrings later.”

“You're right, that was just a little prickle,” Brett said, reaching up to touch his ears. “It doesn't hurt at all.”

“Right?”

There was a buzzing sound then, and Chris jumped a little, reaching into his pants pocket to pull out his phone and check the screen. “Oh, sorry, I gotta take this. I'll probably be a while, go enjoy the party.” And then he grabbed his shirt, and doing up his belt with one hand, he left the room to take the call, leaving Brett there sitting on the bed.

Brett breathed out a long sigh, staring at the wall a minute before he got up, pulled his shirt back on, checked his clothes, ran a hand through his hair, and walked out of the bedroom.

Once he was in the kitchen again, he was surprised by a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see Eddy there.

“Where were you, man? I was looking for you.” Eddy's hand remained on his shoulder as he spoke.

Suddenly, Brett was hyper-aware of every part of his body—he hadn't looked at himself in the mirror before he'd come back. What did he look like? Were his lips swollen? Did he look too flushed? No, he could chalk that up to alcohol. What about his hair? His throat felt raw and he still tasted salt in his mouth. He felt like Eddy was staring at him, even though he knew he wasn't really. It felt humiliatingly obvious that he'd just been losing his virginity in a spare bedroom while Eddy was off flirting with some girl, and Brett didn't want anyone knowing, least of all him.

“Whoa, what's this?” Eddy's hand raised up to Brett's ear, lightly touching the lobe. “Did you just do this? Dude.”

Eddy's long fingers slid the safety pin gently through the lobe, bringing a prickle with it. Brett swallowed, eyes carefully focused anywhere but Eddy as that prickle ran down further than it had any right to be going. This was only because he'd just had sex. This wouldn't affect him so badly, otherwise. The side of Brett's mind that was always thinking about these things said sarcastically, _yeah, this is about the only time I'll ever get him to penetrate me._

Brett shrugged and pulled away from Eddy's touch. “A friend offered, so I did it.”

“Whoa,” Eddy repeated, drawing his hand back. “Didn't it hurt? Hope you won't regret it in the morning. What if you get some weird infection?” His tone was teasing, aware of the innuendo.

For an instant, Brett thought Eddy wasn't talking about the piercing, but the other thing. He froze, wondering which thing had given him away. Did he smell like sex? Was that it?

But there was no way Eddy would know it had been a guy. No way. But the way he'd said that joke, you wouldn't say it that way if it were about a girl, right?

Brett finally managed to force a laugh. “Aw, you're just jealous.”

“I'm always jealous,” Eddy said, and for just a second, he seemed serious, but then he broke into a grin. “...of your amazing fashion sense. Safety pins in your ears? Are you going for a punk look?”

“Shut up, it's just temporary,” Brett replied, and they were thankfully away from that conversation.

“Can we go, though?” Eddy said suddenly.

Brett was surprised. “What? It's barely midnight, though.”

“I'm tired. What do you need me here for, anyway? Hang out with all your other friends.”

Brett blinked at him a moment. “Are you mad about something?”

Eddy shook his head with a weird smile. “I'm not mad.” He half-turned, facing toward the door. “Go have fun talking about...theremins or whatever.” Then he left without giving Brett the chance to drag him back.

It wasn't for half an hour that someone came up to Brett carrying a jacket—Eddy's blazer. It seemed he hadn't even remembered to take it with him when he left. “This is Eddy's, right?” she said. “Take it back to him, will you?” Then she went off to hang out with her own friends.

Brett stared down at the blazer in his hands. Squeezed slightly.

x x x

He'd given in rather quickly. He did have a habit of giving into impulses when he was drunk, and this was one of his stupider impulses—far stupider than getting his ears pierced while drunk at a party.

The bathroom smelled like someone had puked in it, so Brett just shoved Eddy's jacket into his face, inhaling deep as he sat on the closed lid of the toilet, dick in hand and pumping himself with an over-tight grip.

How the fuck was he horny again after he'd already cum once that night? He was so pathetically desperate. He had to get this out of his head, but he couldn't.

Eddy's scent flowed down his mouth and nose in a tingling wash that settled low in his gut, embracing him in the way he knew Eddy never would.

Doing this never felt good, it was just something he had to do or he'd go crazy—but it dulled with repetition, and the orgasm was more powerful, drowning out the prickle that remained in his ears.

It wasn't enough to really hurt.


End file.
